


So, No Date Tonight?

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Award Nominees, Friends to Lovers, Grammy Awards, Guitarist Oliver, M/M, Publicist Connor, alternative universe - musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Oliver, we’ve only got time for one more.” The red carpet reporter’s smile turns almost predatory and Connor’s spine snaps to attention.</p>
<p>“Shoot, Chris.”</p>
<p>“I can’t help but see you don’t have a date tonight.”</p>
<p>“Well, can’t disagree with that, Chris,” Oliver says, nodding along. He shoots Connor a look over the cameraman. “No date tonight, no.”</p>
<p> “No date.” The reporter tilts his head in sympathy and puts a hand on Oliver’s arm. “Anyone special in your life?”</p>
<p>“Well…” Oliver looks to Connor again but Connor doesn’t see the almost mournful glance. “Well,” Oliver says again. “I…I guess there’s no one special. No.”</p>
<p>“No one you thought to ask?”</p>
<p>“Well, I…there was someone I wanted to ask but…” Oliver trails off.</p>
<p>“But what?” The reporter laughs a little to the camera again. “Who could say no to you?”</p>
<p>“Someone out of my league.”</p>
<p>+</p>
<p>A Coliver Grammys AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, No Date Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/139389919408/nonny-prompt-a-coliver-grammys-au-so-id-like)

“So, I’d like to welcome all of you back to our live coverage of the Grammy’s red carpet,” the reporter says with a smile into the camera to the television audience watching at home. “I’d also like to welcome, singer-songwriter Oliver Hampton to our little slice of the carpet. Welcome, Oliver.”

“Thank you.” Oliver smiles into the camera and hopes its the camera he’s been told to look at. He ran a little late with his last interview and he didn’t fully catch everything the producer whispered at him during setup. “Happy to be here.”

“So, Oliver, your story and your album are really one of the – forgive me – but Cinderella stories of the night. A total of six nominations. Among those, Album of the Year, Record of the Year, and Best New Artist. And all for your debut album. I mean, you’ve had quite a year.”

From his spot near the monitors to watch the live feed, Connor watches Oliver smile as the reporter shoves the mic in his face. He listens as Oliver gives a variation of the same story he’s given everyone else for months now. How he wrote the album right after he’d been diagnosed with HIV, how his lover leaving him had fueled his creativity, how the album–

“…is more than just an album to me,” Oliver explains. “It’s more than a set of eleven songs; it’s part of my soul. It’s me telling my story in my way and I’m just so honored and blown away that people have reacted to it in such a personal and powerful way.”

“So, all of this, the nominations and red carpet and everything else, this is just the icing on top?” the reporter asks.

Oliver laughs. “This…this is heaven. I never let myself dream this big so this all just feels a little surreal right now.”

The on-screen duo continue their interview; the reporter asking the requisite “who are you wearing” and other silly red carpet questions. Oliver answers everything confidently and Connor nods in approval.

During the initial album promotion, Oliver was a little nervous and unsure of himself and, in interviews, he’d often come off as either shy and reserved or stilted and aloof. Personally, Connor had found it endearing but it had made his job as Oliver’s publicist a little challenging. But now, after months of media training, Oliver has clearly come into his own, able to smile and joke with the best of them, and it makes Connor love him. I mean, love him as a client. Just as a client. Not as…as anything else.

“So, Oliver, we’ve only got time for one more.” The reporter’s smile turns almost predatory and Connor’s spine snaps to attention.

“Shoot, Chris.”

“I can’t help but see you don’t have a date tonight.”

At the question, Connor signals the segment producer. They’re done. Oliver hates answering personal questions.

“Well, can’t disagree with that, Chris,” Oliver says, nodding along. He shoots Connor a look over the cameraman. “No date tonight, no.”

“No date.” The reporter tilts his head in sympathy and puts a hand on Oliver’s arm. “Anyone special in your life?”

“Well…”

Oliver looks to Connor again but Connor doesn’t see the almost mournful glance; he’s too busy hissing at the producer that, “We talked about this, Erin. End it. End it now.”

“Well,” Oliver says again. “I…I guess there’s no one special. No.”

“No one you thought to ask?”

“Well, I…there was someone I wanted to ask but…” Oliver trails off.

“But what?” The reporter laughs a little to the camera again. “Who could say no to you?”

“Someone out of my league,” Oliver jokes just as Connor shouts loud enough to be heard on screen, “Get him off, Erin!”

“Well, I think we are out of time,” the reporter says with a smug smile. “Thank you so much for being with us, Oliver. Good luck tonight.”

* * *

 

“Sorry about that, Ollie,” Connor apologies once they’re inside the theater. “I told them no personal questions. It’s–”

“It’s okay, Connor. Really,” Oliver assures. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. You said you didn’t want to talk about it and I–”

“Connor!” Oliver hisses. “It’s really fine. I’m not mad. We’re…we’re good.”

“O–Okay.”

They stand then, watching the crowd of musicians and industry reps and people buzzing about. Connor knows there are people he should be checking in with, contacts he should be introducing Oliver too, people who can help build the momentum around Oliver and make his next album even bigger than this one. But when he turns to offer, Connor sees how tired Oliver looks, how the nerves are weighing on him.

So instead, Connor asks, “Want to get out of here for a second?” And Oliver looks more than grateful when he nods.

They sneak off into an empty stairwell and sit on the stairs. Connor’s phone is buzzing in his pocket with texts from Michaela, Oliver’s agent, and Laurel, his manager, but Connor ignores them both.

“So, you got a speech ready?” Connor asks. Oliver just huffs a laugh so Connor presses. “What? You think I buy that bullshit that you never dreamed of being here? You’ve been practicing a speech since the day your album dropped. Since the day you took up a guitar, I’d bet.”

Oliver nods. “Guilty.”

“Well,” Connor prompts when Oliver stays silent. “Come on then. Let’s hear it.”

Oliver lets out a sigh. “It’s not really anything formal…”

When Oliver trails off again, Connor nudges his shoulder. “Come on, Ollie.”

“Well, okay.” Oliver runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I was going to thank the Grammy….people. And the fans.”

“Always a good place to start.”

“Then my parents. Friends.” Another nod from Connor. “Michaela.” Nod. “Laurel.” Nod. “Wes and Frank for being in the studio when I recorded the whole thing. Annalise for signing me to the label. Then…”

Oliver trails off again but this time Connor doesn’t press, he simply waits.

“Then, I was going to thank you.”

“Me?” Connor doesn’t know what to say to that. “Why would–?”

“Because I wouldn’t have any of this if it wasn’t for you, Connor.” Oliver looks over at him and Connor can’t look away. “You were the one who found me in that club in west LA. You got me the meeting with Michaela and helped her prep me for the meeting with Bonnie who got me in with Annalise. You were the first one to hear On My Own and Night Is Calling and–hell, you were the first one to hear the whole fucking thing. Do you remember?”

Connor nods, still too dumbfounded to say anything, and Oliver’s still going.

“That night last December. I snuck you into the studio and we spent all night listening to tracks and different takes. You missed your flight home for Christmas.”

Connor nods again. He remembers that night well. He and Oliver ended up spending Christmas together. They watched the parade and got drunk on eggnog watching Christmas movies. Oliver spent the night on his couch and they made waffles and eggs the next morning. It had probably been Connor’s favorite Christmas.

“You are the only reason this album is a success. You’re the only reason I’m a success.” Oliver covers Connor’s hand with his and squeezes. “I don’t know how to ever thank you.”

Connor’s silent a minute as he lets all that sink in. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to respond, except to ask possibly the stupidest question ever. “Oliver? Who were you planning to take tonight?”

“What?” Oliver snatches his hand back from Connor’s as if burned.

“Before, when he asked you about a date,” Connor starts slowly. “You said there was someone you wanted to ask.”

“That’s not important,” Oliver said, looking down at his shoes.

“You said–”

“It doesn’t matter what I said,” Oliver insisted. “They’d never go for it and…and it just doesn’t…” Oliver risks a glance at Connor. “It just doesn’t matter,” he breathes out with his eyes locked on Connor’s.

Connor waits, licking his lips before risking it all.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna go to the Grammys with me?”

* * *

 

When Oliver wins Best New Artist, he camera is there to capture his enthusiastic kiss with Connor.

From their seats further back, Laurel smiles and leans over to whisper in Michaela’s ear, “Told ya.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com)


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